


Paranoid

by Imatableclock



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Attempts at humour, Bromance, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Gen, Humor, Oblivious Arthur, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 20:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18431669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imatableclock/pseuds/Imatableclock
Summary: When Merlin disappears in The Hollow Queen, Arthur ends up wondering about Merlin's absence, Gaius's silence and Gwen's words.Little does he know.





	Paranoid

It didn’t really make sense.

After all, nothing about Merlin ever did.

Merlin did disappear from time to time, of course, running errands for Gaius, but the man was painfully devoted to his duty. As much as he complained about not having a day off, the one time Arthur deigned to give him one, he refused with a complacent grin and muttered comments about _prat’s boots_. So no, it didn’t make sense.

Arthur contemplated this as he sat in his chambers, bouncing an apple from one hand to the other. He had to ask Gaius to help him dress (it was embarrassing, of course, but Arthur knew a losing battle when he saw one), and after ripping up three of Guinevere’s nightgowns and one of her actual dresses (not even the Gods know why they thought it was his), he was dressed in a threadbare red tunic and breeches which were actually not inside out. He looked out of the window to the courtyard and sighed mournfully when he saw the servants milling about preparing for the tourney with Sarrum’s men. It wasn’t as if he was apprehensive about it, but he’d have to rely on Guinevere to put him in his armour.

He stalled as long as he could, wondering why Gaius would lie about Merlin’s whereabouts. He never was in the tavern, as evident by the lack of the reek of alcohol from his mouth. As for the eccentric behaviour, well, Merlin didn’t need ale to be weird. He managed that quite well on his own. He had spent all of yesterday complaining, hoping that Gaius may try to defend Merlin and end up telling him what was actually going on, but like Gaius was wont to do, he as patiently listened to Arthur’s complaining as he did when a ten-year-old Arthur complained about wooden swords. It was sort of pathetic, but Arthur had no idea what else he could do.

He was jerked out of his thoughts by Guinevere entering the chambers. Over the years that they had spent together after their marriage, she had become distant. She did offer advice and consoled him when needed, but now she had a mask and a responsibility to use words not to articulate her emotions, but to bite and demand and bargain. She would, once in a while, unload her worries to Arthur, and he cherished those moments because they allowed him to be closer to her. But ever since she was taken by Morgana, she didn’t even take off her mask in the privacy of their own chambers. She always acted like she was bargaining and calculating, and Arthur was worried. She even took more time than usual getting ready, something that a passing noblewoman had once attributed to lack of marital happiness. He would never understand women.

He thought that if he gave her some time, she would heal. That she didn’t take off her mask because she believed she was scarred, and if he waited, she would heal on her own. He would wait forever for her, but he could not see her suffer. He had no idea what to do, however, and the only person he could have asked advice from had disappeared somewhere no one would tell him about. He thought about all that as Guinevere put him in his padded jacket, his chainmail and his armour. He also complained a lot during that time, because Guinevere pulled the straps a little too tightly, kept the laces a little bit too loose, and he felt vaguely apprehensive because _she_ was the one who taught Merlin to put on armour, and yet she managed to both strangle him and keep the armour on the verge of falling apart at the same time. He dismissed his worries, thinking it might be a result of her being out of practice.

He began to realise that he had come to rely too much on Merlin, but he pushed away all thoughts as he took his sword from his queen’s hands and slipped it into its scabbard.

* * *

 

It went as well as it could. At least, he didn’t end up embarrassing himself too much or getting stabbed in his own gardens. Of course, he missed the reassuring presence of his manservant, who would always tell him things he didn’t want to hear, which made him feel all the more worthy when he complimented him. And he was still disturbed by the fact that his wife wasn’t in bed with him when he went to sleep, and the nauseating roll of his stomach when he saw the Sarrum, after hearing all he had done. Some would say he was being sentimental being queasy about the treatment of the prisoners, but he was almost as soft hearted as Merlin sometimes. There was a reason why no sorcerers had died at his hands in his rule, after all.

The next day, he actually managed to dress himself (another red tunic) and was thinking about how many ways of killing him were possible while he signed the treaty when Gaius entered and worriedly said, without prelude, “His bed has not been slept in,” and his voice rose, as if his words were not having the appropriate effect, and added “I fear he is in danger.”

Arthur observed Gaius, how his robes were askew, how his physician’s hands, which never shook while treating the deadliest wounds, were shaking, and “What do you mean?” was out of his mouth before he knew it. Gaius said something about sending out search parties, and Guinevere chose to come out from behind the screen at that moment and enquire what had happened.

When he saw Gwen, Gaius’s whole demeanour changed; he stood to face her as if he was pleading, as if he had told her about this and knew she was lying. Arthur chose not to think about it, he, instead, just looked at her as she told them about the girl in her perfect, queenly manner. Her mask. Before he could get confused about Guinevere and Gaius’s behaviour, get jealous about Merlin telling Gwen or about Gwen talking to Merlin, be relieved about the fact that he actually knew where Merlin went or get even more worried about Merlin, he shut down his thoughts, made some jokes about girls and Merlin, and left for his kingly duties after patting Gaius heartily on his shoulder.

But it wasn’t as if his mind listened to him, because he found himself thinking of Merlin and how he would send out at least three search parties if he wasn’t back by nightfall, because however much he trusted Gwen with his thoughts and feelings and his shabbily mended heart, he trusted Merlin with his soul. He didn’t know when that had happened, somewhere between wise advices, rigorous horseplay and the little things Merlin chose not to keep hidden from him. He knew that even Merlin had his secrets but felt as if he was trusted because no one else never bothered to tell him even that much about themselves. He had no idea what he might do if Gwen had been lying and Merlin was out there dying in a ditch by the hands of Morgana with whom she had sided. Paranoia, he decided, as he pushed those away. He realised that he had pushing his thoughts away a lot lately, and decided it was because he didn’t have Merlin to rant at.

Later that day, after someone had actually tried to kill him while signing the treaty and Merlin was back looking worse for wear, mournful about a man- almost child- he possibly couldn’t have known, he decided not to ask Merlin about it, because everything didn’t have to make sense, and he was better off without knowing some things.

**Author's Note:**

> Merlin isn't mine, but I wish.  
> Thanks for reading, though, and comments are always appreciated.


End file.
